What You Do To Me
by Belita Girl
Summary: Sometimes we can't help the way we feel. Sometimes the mounting pressure can eventually become too much and create hurt, drama and situations we could never imagine happening in our lives. BurnsxSmithersxOC
1. Prologue

What You Do To Me: Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own The Simpsons.

Authoresses Note: The reasons for writing this are unknown to me believe it or not. It's my first tragedy I've ever written and the plot just laid itself out in my head in full last night. It is a slash fic just to warn everyone. I hope it's well received and I hope to hear from you.

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It was all routine.

Across the road from the Springfield cemetery was a bus stop. A lone woman sat on the bench awaiting the bus that would take her to work. She spent six mornings a week sitting in that exact spot faithfully awaiting the bus's arrival. The last thirteen years of her life it seemed revolved around this simple routine. She would walk to the bus stop, sit down on the bench, wave to the postman making his daily rounds, watch the people walk by going about their daily business and finally board the bus as it pulled up, greeting the bus driver of that day.

Yes, it was all routine.

About a month ago however her routine began to run parallel with another's.

His routine had started after the morning of the funeral. She had seen the crowd of mourners gathered at the cemetery one morning as she waited for her daily bus. He had been a close companion to the recently deceased and his face, lined with sorrow, was easily spotted in the crowd.

Every morning since that day she had seen him walking alone towards the cemetery, his head hung and his hands stuffed in his pockets. She knew that he wouldn't break this routine of visiting his old friend until he breathed his last breath. Like the bus was sure to pick her up he was sure to pay a visit to the cemetery. Today was no exception.

She almost didn't notice the bus pull up along the curve. Climbing aboard, she looked in his direction one last time before paying her fare. She knew she'd see him again tomorrow morning and the morning after that.

It was unknown to the man that anyone watched him. Recently he had been too lost in his own thoughts to pay much attention to anything. He maneuvered his way around the graves as he had for the past month until he found the one he was looking for.

He stared at it sadly and let a solitary tear fall to the earth piled above his friend. Slowly he reached into his coat pocket and produced a single red rose which he laid on top of all the others he had laid there. A months worth of roses.

He bowed his head once before turning around and walking away, knowing that he'd come back tomorrow with yet another rose. After all, it was routine.


	2. First Impressions

What You Do To Me: Chapter 1 – First Impressions

Disclaimer: I don't own The Simpsons.

Authoresses Note: This is officially chapter one. I'm trying a new writing style where the chapters are shorter and I'm trying to see if they're easier to write.

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_Two Months Earlier_

"Smithers! Come here immediately!" Mr. Burns's voice echoed through his manor.

"Right away sir." Smithers called back and quickly ran towards the source of his friend's voice. He found him seated in his parlor reading a newspaper.

"You called sir?" Smithers asked, panting slightly.

"Yes I did. I have a task for you. Do you think you can get me a bowl of that strawberry 'iced cream' that I am so fond of?" He asked hopefully.

Smithers scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well I would sir but you seem to be out. The carton was empty last time I checked."

"Ah no matter. You can just run along down to the store and pick some up for me won't you?" He asked with a smile and returned to his newspaper, closing the discussion. Though it seemed like he was politely asking Smithers knew that he had no choice in the matter. When he had raised his newspaper he left no more room for discussion.

"Yes sir." He replied and grabbing his coat headed for the front door. It was a chilly march day yet he didn't feel like taking the limo. He was in the mood for a good walk. He was sure that Mr. Burns wouldn't want to wait too long for his so called 'iced cream' so he increased his pace.

He flipped up his collar to the cold wind and shoved his hands into his pockets. It was a lot colder than he expected and by the time he was nearing the store he had wished he had brought the limo. Walking into the grocery store he un-flipped his collar as the warm air from the heaters met greeted him.

"Why on earth would Mr. Burns want ice cream in this kind of weather?" Smithers thought to himself. Either way, Smithers was not one to question or oppose his boss and started browsing the shelves for the brand his boss and friend liked most.

He spotted it and quickly grabbed the last box of the strawberry ice cream. He paid and braced himself for the chill of the cool air as he stepped out the sliding doors. He sighed and started his trek back up to Mr. Burns's manor.

He didn't mind waiting on his boss hand and foot. In fact he enjoyed it. But lately there was a feeling he couldn't shake off. Lately he hadn't been too concerned about his work, he couldn't understand it. He had always felt such a thrill when it came to work but now he just felt faded and worn. Everything seemed a little less to him now.

Even where he felt his feelings would never change he was started to feel mounting feeling of hopelessness. Instead of feeling that surge of happiness and longing when he thought of Mr. Burns he now just felt empty. The longing was still there but it seemed the happiness had been replaced with misery. His heart would give a weak jolt of pain when his thoughts turned to his beloved.

Lost in thought he didn't realize that he was about to walk into something very solid.

THUD

He felt his body and head connect with something hard before falling backwards and landing roughly on the cold sidewalk.

"Hey are you okay?"

Smithers weakly opened his eyes at the voice. It sounded so warm, so caring. He turned his head to look at the speaker who slowly came into view as his eyes slid into focus once more.

Light brown hair danced gracefully as the wind picked it up. Eyes of a piercing blue met Waylon's own brown ones. For a minute he couldn't answer but he quickly got up. Blushing out of embarrassment he was lost for words.

"Here you dropped your bag." The man said as he picked up Waylon's purchase and handed it to him. Finally Waylon managed to catch his voice.

"Oh right thanks." He reached for it and the man smiled.

"No problem. You sure you okay?" He asked once more.

Waylon nodded and smiled in return. "Yes I'm fine. Thanks for asking, I was just a little caught up in my thoughts." Glancing down at his watch his eyes widened. "Uh-oh I've got to be going now. Thanks again." Waylon said as he started to quickly increase his pace towards Burns's manor.

The man gave him a curious look as he watched his retreating back but smiled and continued going his own way.


	3. Second Encounters

What You Do To Me: Chapter 2 – Second Encounters

Disclaimer: I don't own The Simpsons.

Waylon hurried as fast as he could to Mr. Burns's manor. He rushed up the front steps and hoped that Mr. Burns hadn't noticed he was gone for too long. He unlocked the front door and let himself in.

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"Mr. Burns?" He called out into the hallway. No answer.

He removed his snow boots and hung up his jacket before walking into the kitchen to put away the ice cream.

"Mr. Burns?" He called once more. Still nothing.

Waylon raised an eyebrow and walked towards the parlor where he had last seen Mr. Burns. As he walked in he noticed that Mr. Burns was sleeping, with the newspaper in his hands still, while snoring lightly.

Waylon smiled slightly and walked forward to remove the newspaper. He threw a blanket over his friend to keep him from becoming cold. He left the room to give Mr. Burns some peace and quiet.

Walking into the kitchen he decided to brew himself a cup of coffee in order to help warm himself up. As he was waiting he thought of the man who had stopped to see if he was okay. He couldn't remember the last time that someone had stopped and asked him if he was okay. It had felt nice.

Sighing bitterly he realized that he would probably never see that man again. There was no point in dwelling on it. Besides just because stopped and asked him if he was alright didn't mean that he actually cared. When was the last time Waylon could say someone cared?

"Well there was always Mr. Burns, in his own way, who could be relied on at times." He thought to himself. It was true, somewhat.

He sighed once more and poured the now brewed coffee into a mug right before he could take a sip however a voice beckoned him.

"Smithers? Where's that iced cream I asked for?"

Waylon put his cup down and rubbed his hand along his face. "Just a second sir." He called back. He looked at the cup of coffee and knew that by the time he came back it'd be cold. He dumped it down the sink and proceeded to get Mr. Burns's 'iced cream'.

He brought the bowl into the parlor and found Mr. Burns still sitting in his chair with the blanket on his lap. He handed it to him wordlessly.

"Excellent." Mr. Burns said and took the bowl. Still Smithers said nothing. After a couple of bites he looked at the slightly depressed looking Smithers.

"So what's wrong with you?" He asked.

Waylon snapped out of his day dream. "Nothing sir. Did you need anything else?" He asked.

Mr. Burns looked thoughtful. "No actually. Why don't you take the rest of the day off? You can go off and do whatever it is you do." He said before taking another bite of ice cream.

Waylon smiled slightly. "Thank you sir. I've been feeling a little tired. I think I'll head home. Good night."

Waylon for the second time that day found himself leaving to go out into the cold winter air. As he walked along the path once more he found that this time around the cold was a little more bearable.

"I've probably gotten used to it by now." He thought to himself.

He let his legs carry him in no particular direction. All he knew was that he wasn't in the mood to return back to his apartment, alone again. He wandered around the downtown of Springfield for what felt like over an hour. Finally the cold became a little too much for him and he found a popular bar that he occasionally went to. Walking inside he sat down at a lonely table near the back.

Several couples were dancing to the music of live amateur bands that played at the bar. He looked at them longingly.

"What'll it be son?" An elderly waiter came up to the table.

"Just a rum and coke." He said simply. Once the waiter left he turned back to the dancers. The band was playing a light jazz piece and the couples were now grasping hands and holding onto each others waists and necks. A few couples were looking into each others eyes lovingly and some had seized the moment to plant a soft kiss on their other's lips.

Waylon sighed and turned to the drink that the waiter had just placed on his table.

"Thanks." He muttered as the waiter walked away. Taking a deep drink he heard another voice, this time coming from behind him.

"May I sit down or are you waiting for someone?" Waylon nearly choked on his drink as he heard the voice.

Turning around he saw him. The man from earlier was standing behind him with a shy smile on his face.

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Authoresses Note: I hope you all enjoyed. I'll be away for eight days so I'll have an update or two by nine days. Thanks for your patience. 


	4. The Smooth Train

What You Do To Me: Chapter 4 – The Smooth Train

Disclaimer: I don't own The Simpsons.

Authoresses Note: Here's the most recent chapters. Enjoy.

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For a moment Waylon was left speechless but as he saw the man's smile falter he quickly regained his ability to speak.

"Of course. I'm not here with anyone." As he added on the last sentence he felt a surge of loneliness and bitterness.

With a quick flash of his dazzling white teeth the man from earlier sat down. Waylon felt any bitterness he had left quickly disappear as he gazed into the other's blue eyes.

"Sorry to bother you. I just thought you might want some company since you came in here alone." He said as he studied Waylon's face. "I'm Jude by the way." He geld out his hand.

"Waylon Smithers." He reached out and accepted the proffered hand. His finger's felt rough and callused in Waylon's hand. "You new to Springfield?" He asked curiously, he had honestly never seen the man before.

"I just moved here about a week ago for my new job. It's been hard looking for new friends." He admitted.

Waylon sighed. "Yeah I know the feeling. So what do you do for a living, if you don't mind me asking?"

"A local jazz club hired me. They were looking for a lead guitarist and I was looking for a steady gig. The interview went well so here I am." He said as he ran a hand thorugh his soft looking hair.

That explained the calluses, Waylon figured.

"So what do you do for a living?" Jude asked, observing Waylon's face. Waylon couldn't help but notice how sift his features were. They gave the impression that he was in his early twenties.

"I'm the personal assistant to Montogomery Burns, the Springfield Nuclear Power Plant owner." He told him.

Usually he would've continued but he didn't feel like talking about himself some more or going on about his boss which go on for hours. He was more interested in this new man who had arrived in town. He was interesting and seemed to offer something new and different from the dreary routine of Waylon's life.

"How old are you?" Waylon questioned.

"Thirty-nine, you?" Jude asked curiously.

"Wow you look so much younger than thirty-nine! I'm forty-three."

Jude threw back his head and laughed.

"Thanks. I can say the same about yourself." He complimented.

Waylon smiled the first true smile for what seemed like a long time.

"How long have you played guitar for? I always used to want to play the violin but my parents never thought it was worth spending all that money on me."

"That's awful. Music has always been a huge part of my life. I've played since I was ten."

"That's amazing. What club are you playing at?" Waylon asked.

"The Smooth Train. It's in another part of Springfield." He said slightly uneasily.

Waylon was taken aback. "Wow you got hired there! That's a BIG club. I've always wanted to go there but never got the chance."

"Well if you wanted to come sometime I start on Friday and play Mondays to Fridays. Always in the evenings. I've got to get going now. It's been nice talking to you Waylon. Hopefully I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you." Waylon said. As he left Waylon felt a sudden strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.


	5. Emotions

What You Do To Me: Chapter 5 – Emotions

Disclaimer: I don't own The Simpsons.

Authoresses Note: Sorry about the wait. The next two chapters after this should be out shortly. I just need to type them out as they are on paper. Thanks to all my reviewers, con-crit and your kind words are very much appreciated.

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To Waylon Smithers emotions played a large part in his life. Everyone had emotions, that was common knowledge, but Waylon always prided, and cursed, his large emotional capacity. He sometimes looked at the people who surrounded him, the ones who locked up their emotions tight within, and wondered what it would be like to just 'not feel'. But that was absurd, of course they 'felt' but he sometimes wished he didn't keep his own emotions so close to the surface. Sometimes he found that he, with his personality, could harbor many emotions at once and feel many different things. It would cause great confusion and he wished he was in more control at times. Other times he wondered why his brain didn't just explode, bleeding emotions like a fountain spewing water.

This was one of those moments.

As he walked home from the bar he felt dazed. His emotions had once again over run his mind and seized control. His body was in auto drive as he walked to his apartment building, giving a lazy wave and smile to the doorman before walking to the elevator.

The door glided shut and he massaged his eyes wearily as all his thoughts danced around. He felt the familiar sensation in the pit of his stomach as the elevator started to move. After what felt like hours the elevator 'dinged' and the automatic door slid open. He numbly walked to his front door, number nineteen. He felt too lazy to fish his key out of his pocket so he ran his hand along the top of the doorframe until he located his spare.

Throwing open the front door he was momentarily thrown out of his thoughts by the state he had recently left his spotless apartment. Everything was in a state of disarray. For a split second he thought of cleaning it up but shrugged it off like he had done every night for the past little while. He threw his jacket atop the couch which held several weeks' worth of junk piled atop it. He ignored it and quickly got ready for bed and fell into an uneasy sleep.

He got up early the next morning as he did everyday. Even though he hadn't been feeling himself lately he still stuck to his routine faithfully.

The morning went by fairly uneventful. He picked up Mr. Burns who had seemingly forgotten that he had allowed Waylon to get off early the previous night and was in poor spirits. He believed Waylon had left him early and without permission.

"It's a pity," Waylon thought to himself, "that such a brilliant man has lost some memory capacity as he aged."

Waylon assured him it wouldn't happen again as the two drove in silence to the plant. The rest of the day went somewhat boring in Waylon's opinion. But then it went just like everyday so he just shrugged it off and went about his daily work. The only good part about it was tending to Mr. Burns so he at least he had something worthwhile at the plant.

As he delivered some paperwork to Sector Seven for Mr. Burns he thought of Jude and his offer to come to the club. He was curious to tell the truth, he really did want to go and see Jude again but getting another evening off would be tough.

As the elevator he was in took him down he was suddenly hit with a thought.

"The Smooth Train!" He said aloud. He had never even given it a second thought before but that was located in Springfield's gay community! The reason he probably never thought anything of it was because he was in that community quite often, it was nothing new to him.

But that didn't necessarily make Jude gay. Jude had never came out and said he was working at a 'gay' jazz club, he had actually referred to it as "in another part of town". Maybe he was just a straight musician who had been offered a good job in a gay club and taken it but was embarrassed to tell another man. Or maybe he was testing Waylon.

Now Waylon was even more curious. He wanted to go as soon as possible but getting time off would be a major obstacle. Especially for Friday, that was tomorrow, he didn't know if Mr. Burns would allow _another_ evening off.

The elevator stopped and as Waylon stepped out he noticed the usual gaggle of Sector Seven slackers. Frowning he started to walk towards them with the intention of telling them off but before he could open his mouth he caught a fragment of their conversation.

"T-G-I-F!" Lenny exclaimed happily.

"Alright!" Carl said and high-fived Lenny.

"Woo-hoo!" Homer yelled girlishly as he jumped into the air.

Wait. T-G-I-F? Today was Friday?

"Excuse me gentlemen but could one of you tell me what day of the week it is?" Waylon asked as he approached them.

"Today? It's Friday Mr. Smithers. You should really keep on top of things." Lenny said but Waylon missed the last bit. He had already rushed away to deliver the paperwork before dashing back to the elevator up to Mr. Burns's office.


End file.
